


Created to Serve

by Caius



Category: The Transformers (Cartoon Generation One)
Genre: Bondage, Created to serve, Implied/Referenced Abuse, M/M, Service Submission, ergo somewhat dubious consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-02
Updated: 2014-12-02
Packaged: 2018-02-27 20:23:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2705492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caius/pseuds/Caius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Armada comes to Cyclonus' quarters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Created to Serve

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



He usually blended in with the Sweeps -- undetectable, even to Cyclonus, and he was never sure if the Sweeps could tell that Armada was not one of their own.

But sometimes, at night, when Galvatron had cast him out and Cyclonus returned to his own cold dark quarters -- too depressed and hurting to impose himself on Scourge and the Sweeps -- Armada would come to him.

Cyclonus knew who it was when the door opened. Only one other had the key, after all, and he knew better than to expect -- but still hoped for -- Galvatron.

"Armada," he said. "Go away. Serve Galvatron in my stead."

"I wasn't made for Galvatron," Armada said; on this, his twin was always very clear. He climbed onto the berth next to Cyclonus. (There was enough space, just in case Galvatron came to visit. Galvatron did not.) "I was made for you. What about _your_ needs?"

Cyclonus sighed. "I'm not going to argue this again. I'm here to serve Galvatron. If you wish to serve me, you, too, should serve Galvatron."

Armada shook his head. "And what does it do for you, Cyclonus, serving him? He breaks you, hurts you, almost every night!"

"Not every night." Cyclonus turned towards his double, Cyclonus' frame as immaculate as Armada's, for once. "He didn't even touch me."

"I see." Armada looked him over. "No wonder you did not come to our quarters, tonight. Lie back, my Commander, I will care for your needs." He pulled some chains and cuffs out from under a wing and started attaching them to the berth.

Cyclonus did not resist. "You are my servant, Armada. Why am I not chaining _you_ to the berth?"

"Because I provide for your needs, and not vice versa." Armada attached Cyclonus firmly, spread eagled on the berth, and did something odd with Cyclonus' wrists and ankles, testing their flexibility before being satisfied. "I don't want you to hurt, not even if I make you feel very, very good."

Cyclonus shook his head. "You're such a strange creature to wear my face, Armada." But he did not object as Armada moved on top of him, kneeling over his body to attend to his antennae with both hands and mouth.

It did not take much of this before Cyclonus was moaning and struggling against his chains, his soul rebelling against feeling so much pleasure from someone who isn't Galvatron. "You're not -- not my Lord, Armada --!"

"Think of it as touching yourself, my Commander," Armada said, teasing at the base of Cyclonus' antennae, licking and touching so gently but so effectively, and Cyclonus could already feel himself warming up for an overload.

"You're not me, Armada!" Cyclonus said, and then Armada did a thing with his tongue and he exploded into overload.

"No," Armada said, and his lips worked gently, soothingly down his face. "But I belong to you. And I care about you."

Cyclonus grabbed Armada's lips in his as they passed over his, pulling him into a rougher kiss. And Armada -- perhaps he was, after all, Cyclonus, because as Cyclonus got fiercer and more dominant, Armada opened to him, clinging and moaning softly.

"Let me serve you," Armada said, licking a trace of his own energon from his lips.

And Cyclonus did not have the spark to say no.


End file.
